Mountain Thyme and Purple Heather
by MadameMismatched
Summary: <html><head></head>During the Battle of England, Salad Fingers and Marjory send their daughter off to live in Scotland for her safety. At the age of 19, she returns home... But is it as it once was? Inspired by the fanfic 'Clunk Clunk Kenneth'</html>


"Please don't make me do this…"

It was a plea, a whimper from the vehicle's backseat. The moon flashed in and out of the cover of thick clouds, the light from the passing streetlamps being the only beacon to illuminate the car as it drove.

The young girl sat with her hands in her lap as they sped along in the night, her head bowed so as to hide the tears that continually blossomed in her bright blue eyes. The child was rather young, no older than ten. Long, ebony black hair trailed down her shoulders, clashing with the white lace of her dress.

"It won't be for long, darling," a feminine voice replied. It belonged to her mother, the red haired woman who sat in the passenger seat of the car. Both mother and daughter bore the same striking blue eyes, the ones everyone compared to two large lakes. And like her child's, her eyes too were awash with tears.

"How do you know?" The girl demanded, "What if something happens and by tomorrow I'm an orph-"

"Yvonne, you mustn't spout such things." Her father interjected. His black hair was the exact same shade as his daughter's, though his was far shorter. "Your mother and I are doing this for your well being. If something does end up happening, we want our little girl to be safe."

Yvonne bit her lip, the emotions mixing in her stomach like some sort of awful brew. It made no sense to her, young though she was.

"Daddy, I want to be with you both if something happens! That way we won't be alone if we-"

"Darling, please…"

His voice was choked up, and that was able to silence his daughter. She couldn't stand to see her father weep.

Wiping the fresh tears from her eyes, Yvonne glanced out the window yearningly.

If it had been day time, there'd have been people bustling about everywhere. The street vendors would have been selling miniature meat pies and chocolate biscuits, and the market would be crowded with people, like ants upon a fallen piece of bread. It may have just been her imagination, but the girl could swear she smelt the freshly baked sweet rolls from there.

On days when it wasn't raining, she clearly remembered going in there and purchasing a crisp red apple for herself, if she had the money. Yvonne remembered going into town to run small errands for her parents, buying jams, bread, flour, bags of tea.

"The market workers will probably think it strange when I don't come around to buy bread." She commented, with solemn silence from her parents.

Hertfordshire.

How strange it was that she'd never truly admired the beauty of her home until she was leaving it.

Alas, they had no time for sight seeing at the moment.

Her father continued to drive, the family sitting in an uncomfortable silence that was never present during drives. How she longed for some to crack an anecdote, make some sort of conversation. Anything to slay at least a small bit of the grief that seemed to be filling her all the way to her finger tips.

"Please say this won't be long." Yvonne finally managed to speak, her voice cracked and raspy, "Please, promise me that…"

"We swear on our lives, Yvonne." Came her mother's reply, "As soon as they've gone away, you'll be coming home."

She wanted to believe it. Her mother had never, ever been wrong before.

Take these seeds of doubt away from me, she thought, take them where they may never be seen again…

Evidently, they hadn't been the only ones with this idea.

King's Cross station was filled to the brim with parents and children, some older than Yvonne, some younger. Most, if not all, weeping.

Yvonne unbuckled herself, taking hold of the large suitcase's handle as her father parked the car. It contained several changes of clothes, a few books here and there, hygienic products such as a tooth and hair brush, and a few items of her own. Her feet felt as though they were made of solid lead as she stepped from the vehicle, dragging her luggage behind her as she wiped her puffy red eyes.

Her mother gently took her free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, her father delicately placing a hand upon her shoulder. She wanted them to keep those positions, to never let go of her. And at the same time she wished to push them away, to prevent tears from flowing once more.

"As soon as you get to the train station in Scotland, Auntie Bainbridge will be waiting on the platform for you." Her father explained as they entered the station, "She'll take you back to her cottage, and I'm certain she'll let you send a letter to let us know you arrived safely."

Yvonne wasn't listening. She watched as children boarded trains to different countries, such as Wales and America. Safe havens though they were in a time such as this, boys and girls alike clung to their families as they sobbed, unable to handle the very real possibility of never seeing their loved ones again.

It pierced her like a cold knife to know that she would be among them soon.

The child felt her mother's thumb gently rub her knuckles. She heard her murmur, 'my sweet baby' under her breath, and the urge to wail built up inside her once more.

The long wait in the ticket line was a welcomed eternity on Yvonne's part. If there was anything in the world that could postpone this, she would have welcomed it with open arms.

The man managing the tickets was young, a few years younger than her parents. His eyes were sympathetic as her father placed a few pounds upon the table, and in return a train ticket to Scotland was passed forward.

"You c-could always just crumple it up," Yvonne sniffled, "And we could go home and go to sleep, pretend this never happened…"

Her father swallowed the lump in his throat, batting his brown eyes fervently in an attempt to erase the tears. Her mother blew her nose into her handkerchief.

Children from her primary school were recognized amongst the families about to be separated, all coated in hopelessness and dusted in gloom.

How she wished their facial features would simply melt, so she wouldn't have to see them cry.

They approached the platform where the Scotland train would arrive five minutes from them. Such a short amount of time.

It felt as though the forced back sobs would cause her chest to cave in and collapse.

i"P-Please!"/i

Marjory and James turned to their daughter, whose red cheeks were cascading with hot tears once more. It was more than enough to break their hearts.

"Please don't send me away… I don't w-want to be alone!" she wept, "I want to stay w-with you both, and if I-I die doing it t-then…" The rest of her words collapsed into sobs.

They were both upon their knees, arms encircling their only child in a tight embrace. No matter how hard they'd tried to keep it in, all three of them were shedding tears now.

"Dearest Yvonne…" Marjory murmured, kissing her child's tear stained cheek, "This isn't goodbye forever. Far from it."

"B-But what i-i-if-"

James held a finger to Yvonne's lips.

"You will never, ever be alone, my precious girl. No matter how many miles you may be, mummy and daddy will be with you always…"

"We're right in here," her mother pointed to Yvonne's head, "and here." She moved it to her heart. "So long as we're in both of those places, no distance will separate us. You're just going over the rainbow for a little while."

"Yes, the rainbow." Her father smiled. "Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high. That's our song, isn't it baby?"

A small smile crept on to Yvonne's face, and she nodded.

"Whenever you miss us, or simply need a bit of comfort, will you promise mummy and daddy that you will sing it, no matter where you may be?" Marjory asked.

She didn't need to think her answer over, "Yes, mama. I will. I promise."

"That's my girl," James murmured softly, kissing his daughter's forehead, "And when you come home, we'll hold a grand picnic by the shore. Just like when you were small."

"We'll be together again." Yvonne slowly replied, "And I'll…" she swallowed the lump in her throat, "I'll be strong. I'll do whatever it takes to make things better. I'll make you proud."

There was a loud chime, and Scotland's train rolled into the station.

With a tearful smile, James slipped the ticket into his daughter's small palm, folding her fingers over it, "This isn't goodbye, Yvonne. This is merely a 'farewell for now'."

"And we'll be right here when you come home." Marjory added.

The parents and child shared an embrace that lasted an eternity, before they released each other.

Yvonne never wanted to let go.

"Write use everyday," her father said, not bothering to dry his eyes as he and his wife helped her up the steps, "We don't want to miss a thing!"

"We'll send you every letter we receive from Uncle Kenneth. You'll be kept informed about the war." Marjory wept, kissing her precious daughter's cheek a final time. She whispered in her ear, "I love you so much, my sweet baby Yvonne…"

"I love you too, mummy. More than anything in the world.

It was James' turn now.

Her wrapped his only child in his arms, a small sob managing to escape his lips as he told her, "No matter what, we're going to survive this war." He said, "And never forget that I love you… So much."

Her voice trembled, "I won't. Never, ever. I love you, daddy. I love you so much…"

When James finally released her, she trudged into the train with a tearful wave to her parents.

Passengers stepped off as the attendant assisted the girl in placing her trunk in the over head compartment, the other children following suit.

The small girl poked her head out of the open window, waving to her mother and father, "I'll write everyday!" she called, "I love you both! More than the whole world!"

No time seemed to pass before the train began to chug forward, faster and faster with each movement. James and Marjory ran for ward, their daughter still waving.

"Keep your grades up!" they replied, "We'll see you again soon! We swear it!"

They yelled claims of love to each other, things only the three of them could hear amongst the cries of the other families.

Far too soon enough, their daughter's crying face was out of sight as the train left the station.


End file.
